When lights go out
by AznSuperman
Summary: A boy charged with extraordinary responsibility: to keep his sister alive as the world succumbs to rage virus.
1. Chapter 1

Jason put his finger to his lips, telling his sister to be quiet. Together, they observed the woman outside their door. She was standing lazily under the shadow of the fading day. He could not tell if she was sleeping or awake, but how can someone sleep while standing on their feet.

"Jason, I'm scared." Ashley said. He turned and saw that his sister was very uncomfortable. She looked as if she was about to cry.

"Fine, then cover your eyes." She cupped her hands to her eyes.

The woman outside was swaying. Her arms dangled uselessly as it swayed slowly side to side, reminding him of those snaky vines his uncle used to have climbing over his fence.

Outside, the wind started to pick up again, sending cold winds rattling against his window. He could feel the chill through the glass where he was looking out from. The woman was not bothered by the cold at all, from her silhoulette, she was wearing short sleeved shirt, long pants that to Jason, looked like pajamas, and she stood as casually, unaffected as someone preparing to go to a beach on a hot day. And she has been standing in the middle of the street for half an hour.

He wanted to say something to her, asking if she needed any help. Maybe she was lost.

Half an hour ago, he was in the living room playing video games, not even bothered turning on the lights in the house even though it was getting dark, which turned out to be a blessing. The woman was heard screaming from far away. He had paused the game and ran to the window, looking out with Ashley by his side. She had been chasing something down the road before she lost track and stood there as if hibernating.

"What do we do?" His sister asked. Jason rarely got mad at his sister but he was now slightly annoyed.

"I thought you were closing your eyes." She looked up at him sheepishly and said nothing else. "I'm going to talk to her."

"Jason no!" She pleaded.

"What if she needs help?"

"What if she's crazy. She was screaming..."

He stood up from the window and began unlocking the door, just as the streetlights flicked on. The woman jerked with a loud grunt. She spun around, her hands curved into claws, attacking the air.

"What the hell?" Usually his sister would say something whenever he said "bad" words, but she was too compelled to the scene of the mad woman outside, who continued to slash and punch her invisible enemy.

"Call the police." Jason said. His sister reluctantly left.

A few seconds went by. The woman seemed to not run out of stamina from her excessive attacks at all. He felt his bowel grew cold when he realized how visible he was from the window. If she turned this way surely she would see him, and he wasn't sure what she'd do, or how he would react. He slid his feet under him and crouch lower, so that only the top of his head and his eyes are visible.

"Ashley, are you still calling?" He said.

There was no reply. He turned around, eyes earching for her. His feet grew numb.

"Ashley?" He asked again.

"Yeah?" A tiny voice trailed from the kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing? Are you calling?"

"Uhhh... I think I see someone outside." His heart skipped a beat. He stood up, trying to fight the numbness in his feet.

"Where?"

"I don't know, I just saw..."

Jason heard the window shattered.

It came from the kitchen, his sister started to scream. Jason hobbled to the kitchen as a manly snarl drowned out the silence.

His sister ran from the kitchen, a dark shape looming behind her, trying to catch up. He pulled the tall DVD stack from the wall and threw it in the way of the man. He tripped on the obstacle and fell. Jason noticed in that quick second, the oily, dark hair matted with dirt, as the man look up, he thought he was staring into the face of a demon. His eyes were unnaturally red, almost inorganic in the strangeness of its color, dark red blood streaming from their corners down to his face. There was a certain ferity about the man that he had never seen before on any human, that looking into those wild eyes was like looking into a haunting abyss. Jason took heels and ran.

He took up the stairs where his sister had fled, hearing the feral man getting up behind him. The living room window broke and the woman leapt in, howling. The woman and the Feral man saw each other and charged, their bodies crashing against one another, arms flailing, punching kicking, teeth ripping.

When he came to the top of the stairs, the two assailants stopped fighting and began to ascend the stairs. Jason came face to face with three closed doors. Which one did Ashley ran into? He wanted to shout for her, but there wasn't enough time. He dived into his room and kicked the door shut, quickly regained his feet and locked it, the assailants crashed against the wood, the door bulged with impact and Jason thought for a moment that it would give in. The door held, however, there was a loud "crack" as the assailants charged again.

Fuck! The door won't hold. He could see a thin crack running from the top of the door through the white wood down to near the knob handle. He expected his assailants to burst in, when a cry rose in the frantic air.

Ashley's wail rose up from the other room. He was too afraid that he almost forgot about his sister. She burst into loud tears, and the crazed couple began to attack the other door. He could feel the vibration through the walls of his own room every time the crazies shot their bodies against the door.

"Jason!" Ashley screamed his name amidst her cries. He felt his knees grew weak, his throat tightened as the tears threatened to come up from his eyes.

No, not now, my sister needs help.

He went to the window and lifted up the frame and shutter, and crawled out, facing the thirty feet drop down to the backward. There was a small ledge between all the rooms upstairs. Jason wiggled out from the window and scaled the ledge. There was nothing to hold on to, so he edged himself close to the wall like a reptile and inched his way toward his sister's window, the time bomb ticking in his mind.

He banged on the glass window with his fist.

"Open the window, Ashley!" He screamed out to her. He could hear her from inside the room, still crying while the crazies battered away the thin wooden door, which was giving in one crack at a time.

She didn't open the window.

He cursed and hit the windows again, there was no strength behind his punch as there was no leverage, every time his fist swung, he risked falling from the ledge.

He bent his straddling knees and looked inside. Anger siezed him, the only thing stopping him from trying to bang his head against the wall for his stupidity was his sister's continued plea for his help. The room was empty. His sister had ran into their parents' room.

He kept on scaling the ledge, one inch at a time. His hands are sweating and cold, every gust of wind threatned to throw him off. And it was dark. He navigated his way using the faint, distant light left from the setting sun.

He came to his parents window at last, and banged his fist on it.

"Open the window!" He yelled. The window frame slowly rose up, pushed by Ashley's skinny arms, she reached her hand out to him, which he clutched and held on like a treasure. Inside, he heard the door breaking apart, and the growls came into the room. He tugged hard at her hands, dragging her out from the window, the woman dived after her and fell down to the yard underneath. Ashley's weight tipped him off his balance.

Ashley and he were falling, he reached up instintively with his other hand, and felt the gutter under his grip. There was a loud creak of metal as the long gutter began to bend, then it was still. The gutter held on.

Jason breathed out in relief and strained to pull Ashley to the ledge when the crazy man earlier leaned out from the window and reached for him. Jason saw his face, red eyes, snarling mouth, blue veins ran like agressive tunnels under his skin as his hand came up for him like a terrible talon... there was a piercing sound of gunshot as the man's face jerk once, and slumped. His dead body hanging from the window sill.

Jason turned his head and saw his neighbor, Joe Conti, takes his face from his hunting rifle. There must obvious gratitude in Jason's face, because Joe gave him a bright smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Joe laid his rifle down on the grass in his yard and climbed the fence. It wasn't easy for him at his age, he hoisted himself up, his face red from exhaustion as he sat up on the top and panted. After a couple breaths he climbed down to Jason's side, consciously aware of his beer gut getting in the way. As he reached the ground, his feet slipped in the wet grass and he fell to his ass, cursing.

_This is my hero_, Jason thought. Not strong, tall, handsome, but Joe Conti. But at that moment Jason did not care how sloppy and clumsy his neighbor was, only that he saved Ashley and he from certain death.

Joe came under the ledge and held up his arms. Jason let go of his sister, Joe caught her. He didn't want to jump down to his neighbors' arms however, he didn't want to appear weak. He scaled the ledge back to his room, past the window, and came to the corner where the rusty gutter pipe ran down to the ground, which he grabbed and got himself down.

"Thank you." Jason said.

"C'mon, let's go before more of them hear the gunshot!" His neighbor said.

"Them?"

"I'll tell you later. You can't stay at this house, come to mine." He took lead.

They didn't climb the fence. He and Ashley followed Joe toward the front, where the fence ended. They crouched, scanning the darkness, streetlights revealed that the neighborhood was empty. They walked around the fence, into Joe's yard. He urged them to go through the front door while he went and fetched his gun.

Jason never been inside his neighbor's house. Joe had the lights off, the place felt large and alien. He half expected a crazy person to leap from the shadow, when the front door opened and his neighbor stepped in, shutting the door behind him. There was a click, and a thick ray of yellow light beamed from Joe's flashlight. The house was smaller than he thought, and no crazy person waited for him in the shadow.

Joe lead them through the living room and into the kitchen, where he set his rifle down on the counter and opened the fridge.

"You kids had anything to eat yet?"

"No, sir." Jason said.

"I'm hungry." His sister nervously said, her voice quivery.

His neighbor dug into the fridge and pulled out two hot dogs, he set them in the microwave. There was an electric humming as the device did its job.

"Jesus. Did you both have eat anything today at all? You look terrible."

They both shook their heads.

"Where's your mom?"

"She's been out for some business..."

"Business my ass." Joe snapped. "I'm sorry."

Jason wasn't mad at his neighbor. His mother left early every weekend to stay with her boyfriend somewhere in Redding. She'd give them each fifteen dollars for food before she departed, not caring how they could purchase the food with that money, as the store was at least five miles away. They could usually scavenge their fridge for leftovers, but there was none today. He looked at his sister. _God, she's so thin._ It hurted him from inside, to know that while he was playing video games, his sister was hungry.

There was a sizzle coming from the microwave, followed by a delicious pop. Joe opened it and brought out two steaming hot dogs. They reached for them eagerly and Ashley flinched when she touched the hot meat.

"Careful." His neighbor said, he ripped free two pieces of napkin so they can hold the hot dogs.

Nothing had tasted half as delicious. Jason ate it with calculated enthusiasm, to not appear pathetic in front of his savior. Ashley, however, gobbled it down like a hungry dog. Joe utter a quiet laugh.

"You can have more if you want. I have plenty of food here." Ashley did.

"I'm tired." She said after they had their fill.

"Follow me. You can sleep with Gianna tonight." Gianna was Joe's wife, she had been paralyzed from the waist down in a car accident four years ago, so she mostly stayed at home and did chores during the day.

The large woman was in her bed when they came into the room. She looked up at them and strained a sweet smile.

"Hey, neighbors." Gianna said. Jason smiled back, while his sister waved to her.

"Ashley's gonna stay with you tonight." said his neighbor.

"Wooohh. I hope you like stories, because I have a lot to tell"

Ashley hissed in excitement and jumped in the bed. They all laughed.

Half an hour later, Joe and Jason were looking outside from the living room shutter. The street was dark and devoid. No one had came home from work that day, nor did Jason hear any car driving past. It was a disturbing silent that echoed some horrific changes to this town.

"Why did they try to attack us?" The boy finally asked.

His neighbor sighed, his face was suddenly tired beyond his years.

"It was something... some kind of bacteria, or virus, if there's any difference. Two days ago I was at work, one of the guys brought in some beer on lunch, we were passing the beers around. Having fun, you know." Joe leaned on the wall for support, not conscious of himself doing it. "There was this truck, not as big as an eighteen wheeler, mind you, but it was pretty damn big, now I don't know if the driver was drunk or he was on drug or something, but the truck came right off the road, cut through the fence, ripping the posts off the ground and came right at us. It didn't stop or even slow down. Daniel, poor bastard, the truck came at him and there was no time for him to get away, so he just stood there and stared. The truck pinned him into the wall, and he was pinched, like I mean pinched, his body looked like chewing gum where the truck stapled him into the wall."

"Then the driver came out." Joe was reliving a nightmare. "There was something in his face. You could tell instantly that there was something wrong with this man. It's either the eyes or the mouth, or his skin I don't know, but he grabbed Mitch, and Mitch was a bigggg guy, two fifty pounds at least, but the guy grabbed him, pinned him down like he was a toy, he kept hitting him and hitting him. He tried dragging the guy off of Mitch, while the others went and check on Dan, who was dead then, by the way. But this driver guy, he was so strong. When Mitch was dead, or we assumed he was dead, the driver grabbed Jesse. In two seconds, I swear to you, Mitch got up. God damn, looked like a dog. You seen a dog with rabies before, Jason? No? Mitch looked exactly like a rabid dog, only much bigger."

Joe stopped to breath. Jason thought he had enough of telling his horrible story.

"The cops came half an hour later." He chuckled. "Freakin' cops. Two guys were dead, and four are up and walking, looking for people to kill. Donald and I ran back into the office and locked the door. Cops came with these men in hazmat suits, and they shot everyone, then they burned the bodies, they found Eric hiding in the outhouse, he was just hiding, he was normal, he wasn't bitten or anything, but they shot him right in the head and burned his body too."

"Donald and I decided to sneak out of there. The cops came to my house afterward, I told them I was never at work that day, my wife was sick and I had to call out. Pretended I didn't have a clue what was going on, ya know. They told me there was an accident, and the plant was burned down, so I shouldn't bother coming to work again."

Joe grabbed Jason's shoulder, looking into his eyes.

"They lied to me, Jason. They killed all my friends, and they lied to me. It was something in the blood, and the saliva, and it makes you insane. This happened before, in Europe, they covered it up like they did with my friends. Listen, Jason. Your mother is not coming back. I know that for a fact, whether she's alive or dead, she's not coming back for you. Now I will look out for you and your sister for as long as I can, but the day will come that you will have to protect her, you're a brave boy, I saw it with my own eyes, but when that day comes, use good judgement and don't you trust anyone, anyone, especially the authority. You got that?"

Jason nodded nervously. He thought of his mother, his heart felt like aching.

"Promise me."

"I... promise."

Joe let go of his shoulders, together, they looked out from the window. The night was still and seemed to grow colder. Darkness was silent, but Jason thought he saw shadows moving in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

It was well past midnight, but Jason couldn't sleep. He laid on the couch, eyes wide awake, consciously aware of the unfamiliar surrounding. A few feet away from him, Joe slept on the ground, snoring softly.

He missed his mother. Sure she wasn't the best mother by any sense of the word, she had neglected them more times than he could count, but she was the one single adult he felt connected to, she was his home, his childhood, and most importantly, his memory of a few years ago when dad was still alive.

_God, why?_ He shook his head. His family was perfect. His mother _used_ to care. Dad's death sent her into a serious depression. She took up drinking and changed completely. Every time a monthly bill came in the mail, she would look at the charge, then with a face full of despair, went into the fridge and searched for whatever alcohol was left. She usually yelled at them, that it was their fault her life turned out bitter, and Jason was sure that one time, in a drunken stupor, she blamed dad's death on him and his sister. "My Dale would still be alive if he didn't have to get up that morning and drive to work to feed you little fuckers." she had said. Ashley was too young to understand what her mother was saying, but ten years old Jason had bitten back his tears and pretended he didn't hear her. That night, when he was in bed, she had gone into his room, sat on his bed. He pretended to be sleeping to escape her verbal assault, when she started bawling.

"I'm sorry Jason. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I love you very much." She had kissed him on his forehead and left the room. As her sniffles subsided, he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, he didn't sleep that night.

Jason sighed. It didn't look like he would sleep tonight either.

Ashley was having a terrible nightmare. The event today replayed again in her dream. She was standing in the her bedroom, alone. There was constant thudding on her door. The thuds rose gradually and ascended into the loud banging of fists. The crazy couple were trying to break down her door to get in. Panic seized her tiny chest. She started to cry again. Someone was knocking on the window, she turned and saw her brother's face pressed against the glass. She tried to race toward the window. _BAM!_ Too late. The woman came into the room, snarling and spitting droplets of blood. But it wasn't the woman, it was her mother, but instead of the excessive makeup and ruby lipstick she wore, her face was scarlet with blood.

She woke up. She didn't wake up instantly and dramatically as they did in the movies, she opened her eyes slowly and sucked in the cold air. For an instant, she thought she was still at home, in her living room, then reality came back to her. Everything seemed suddenly scarier.

Gianna lied next to her, and Ashley took comfort in that fact. Adults were always good, her father, her mother, Joe, and Gianna, they all were nice to her and wanted to protect her. She turned to look at Gianna, and felt her heart leaping from her chest.

The woman was pale, even paler than she was before. The woman had big eyes, but they were widened into an even bigger size, her mouth agape, signifying unspeakable horror, her breaths rapid. Ashley wanted to run. The woman's large eyes suddenly trained on her, her lips pouted.

"Ssssshhhhhhh... Don't. Move." She whispered to the girl.

Fear was a knot in her throat. Her cold hands seized into fists under the blanket that was now offering no protection against the sudden chill she felt.

She turned her head slowly. Very slowly. Toward the window.

It was dark outside, the large window hung like a inky, black painting. There was an occasional movement as the tree branches wavered in the wind. She saw nothing there, nothing out of the ordinary. Until she lowered her eyes.

There was a man outside the window, his face pressed against the windowpane, his breath fogged up the glass, making it hard to see his features. But those red eyes were unmistakable, eyes with irises so dark as if he had no soul. He glared at them, face seemed to light up with hatred. His jaws clenched shut so tightly his lips were pressed together as if he had no teeth. And he was convulsing. His entire body seemed to vibrate, like he was containing something that would explode out of his body at any second. And she could hear his hoarse breathing.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream so loud that Jason, or Joe could come into the room and get that man away, but nothing came out of her throat. Her heartbeat was so loud she thought the whole house was beating along with it.

"He doesn't see us." Gianna said in shaky voice. "It's too dark in here, he can't see us. As long as we stay still, he'll leave."

Ashley tried to stay still. She wanted to become a statue, so still that even her hair could not move in the wind, but she was shaking badly. Her neck was aching from straining to look at the window.

The crazie grunted once, spitting dark red fluid onto the window pane, and almost in a blur, he was gone. Gianna let out a long sigh comparable to her large body, while Ashley sunk deeper into the bed. She looked again to make sure the man was gone, and pulled the blanket up to her neck.

When she looked up, Gianna had drifted back to sleep. It made her wonder how often the woman had to go through this, to be able to sleep again after seeing... that. She felt the need to pee, but instead, she drew the blanket further up her head, closing her eyes shut, letting the blackness devour her vision. But sleep never came for her that night.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Jason woke up to the sound of gunshot. He nearly jumped out of the couch, bracing himself from the impending attack. There was none.

He craned his neck to see Joe kneeling by the window, his long rifle propped up next to him, like a hunter stalking his game.

The boy came to sit next to him. Nothing had changed since last night. The cars were still where they were, and not a single life was seen on the street. The day looked completely normal, a bright, cloudless morning. He wanted to see people on the street, to see cars drove past and people on their feet jogging, tapping on their ipods.

"Someone's shooting." Joe pointed to the left, behind the opposite row of houses, facing them in serene calmness. "Probably from Angler Street."

"You think he's okay?"

"That's really strange. They don't come out in the day." Jason turned to look at him.

"How do you know that?"

"I watched them." Joe stood up, the hunting rifle strapped on his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna check on our neighbor."

Jason wanted to stop him. But then he remembered how he and Ashley were saved yesterday. Had his neighbor been selfish, they wouldn't be alive, someone should have the same benefit. _He has his wife, what if something happens to him? I can't take care of Gianna._

The door slammed shut. He sat and listened to Joe's receding footstep.

A few minutes later, Ashley waddled out of the room, rubbing her eyes.

"Did you hear the gunshot?" He asked.

She shook her head.

"Jason." He turned toward her. Her arms were held stiffly by her side. "I saw a man last night."

"Where?" Jason felt goosebumps running up his body.

"At the window. He was crazy."

"Did you look at him?"

"Yeah. He looked like that woman yesterday." He tried to control his breath. _They don't come out in the day._ He hoped Joe was right.

Gianna managed to get herself onto her wheelchair and came into the kitchen to make breakfast. The wheelchair was set up a little low, so she had to reach up constantly to the counter to grab her ingredients. It looked like she was making pancakes. He offered to help, taking the flour from the cabinets and the tools from the drawers, although at his lackluster height, he wasn't much help.

"Joe went to check on the neighbor. There was a gunshot this morning." He informed her, surprised she never asked.

"He's good like that." She smiled, stirring the egg-flour mixture in a nesting bowl, which she pressed against her bosom.

"Aren't you worried?"

"No. We've been living here for twenty years, it's really a nice neighborhoodI really think he'd be okay." She looked up from her work, which now looked like a yellowish paste. "I know you worry about your mother. I'm sure she'll be okay."

"You think so?"

"I know so." She resumed her stirring, which was probably a bit excessive since the mixture was already looking well blended together.

There was something about Gianna that he liked, some motherly quality emanating from the woman, especially when she spoke to him with that soft voice and the way she looked at him and Ashley, as if they are so fragile that a mean look could shatter them, coupled with the trust and comfort she found in her husband and other people around her, staying near her made him believe that everything was not as bad as it seemed. She was so... normal. He had to wonder if she knew what was going.

"Anytime now the authority will roll in and sort out this mess." Her optimism brought back his sense of dread. He remembered the what Joe told him yesterday. _Never trust the authority. _

"My sister said she saw a man last night. At the window." Her hand instantly stopped moving.

"The man... oh, I saw him too. But I'm sure he was just lost." There was a shakiness in her voice, she was visibly scared, and she wasn't too good at hiding it. _She's denying._

"She told me he looked... wrong." He said. She inhaled sharply.

"Maybe he was a burglar, trying to break in." She resumed her work, hand stirring, she was suddenly getting clumsy, he noticed. The whisk moved in unplanned directions, clanging loudly against the side of the bowl. He regretted forcing the memory on her.

"You know, come to think of it, he's probably some homeless guy trying to steal some cigarette." He finally said.

"Hmmm." She kept on stirring, acknowledging his answer. He left the kitchen shortly.

The house was small, and unlike his, there was only one story, so it didn't take long for him to find his sister sleeping soundly on the couch when he wandered into the living room. He sat down on the couch opposite of her, considering taking a nap when the front door opened and Joe stepped in, he looked tired.

"Well, that was interesting." He said to Jason, although his voice spared no evidence of any interest.

Gianna rolled herself from the kitchen, the wheelchair's metallic axles squeaked. He kissed his wife on her forehead.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Ah. Some guy was firing warning shots 'cause apparently some teenagers were trying to break into his house. When I walk up he thought I was one of 'em kids, almost shot me too."

"Oh my god. You guys and your guns." She scolded. He laughed apologetically, crow's feet folded at the corners of his eyes.

"Hopefully the someone didn't call the police on him, poor guy." Joe said.

"I hope that didn't scare Leah so badly. The poor girl's pregnant. If she breaks her water and her husband's not here..." She said. Leah was one of their neighbors, her husband was almost always on the road, traveling for work.

"She's fine. I just said good morning to her on my way back. The girl was scared out of her mind, but she's okay."

"Poor girl. Well, breakfast's almost ready." She wheeled her wheelchair around.

"Tell me we're having pancakes." He said.

"That's it." Her voice now came the kitchen.

The two of them stood in the living room. The neighbor looked over to his couch, where Ashley was sleeping, oblivious.

"Did my wife snore last night or something?" He asked, humor was probably still on his mind.

"She told me she saw someone at the window, last night." Jason informed him. Tension suddenly built on his already tired face.

"Who?"

"She didn't know. She saw him looking into the room, scared her so bad she couldn't go to the bathroom."

"Did he seem..." He looked over to make sure his wife wasn't there, she was in the kitchen, working and humming some song Jason didn't recognize. "... normal?"

Jason shook his head.

The old man sighed and looked out the window, the brightness causes him to squint. He went to the door.

"Where are you going?" The boy asked.

"I'm gonna go take a look around."

"I want to come too." Joe paused, then nodded.

They stepped out onto the sunlit day. Despite the brightness, it was chilling him to the bone. The neighborhood was like a graveyard, its many houses, like tombstones, staring at him with empty eyes. He felt like he was being watched.

"The guy was probably infected. If he was here last night, he couldn't have gone far. We gotta find him, it's too dangerous to live that close to one of 'em."

They stepped into the yard of the house to their left. They walked past the well-maintained grass and into the front porch. Instead of knocking on the door, Joe twisted the knob. It was locked. Jason followed him to the side of the house. They traced the narrow pathway into the backyard.

_Shit. We're intruders._ He imagined the house's owner, looking at them from inside the house, loading his gun, taking aim. The backyard was wide and empty, except for a pile of chopped woods, cut into small logs for the fireplace. They stepped to the back porch, where a plastic table was surrounded by two chairs, and stopped in front of the sliding patio door. Joe peered inside before giving the door a tug, which remained unmoved.

"We're good here." Joe said as they walked back to the front.

"What are we looking for?" The boy asked.

"Broken doors, windows, shacks, things like that. From what I see, the crazies... infected, they don't like the sun too much. Sensitive to it somehow, so during the day they'd probably stay somewhere with shade."

"What will you do when you find him?"

"I think you know the answer to that." Jason felt his stomach churning with anxiety, regretting his request to accompany, praying silently that this search be fruitless.

"Can't we just like... call the police?"

Joe looked back at him, looking a bit annoyed.

"Gianna doesn't know this, but something very bad is going on. She takes meds for pain, so she's asleep most of the time, which was why she couldn't hear my shooting yesterday. When I saw that thing dragging Leah screaming from her car, I went to get my gun but he beat her to death and was gone by the time I got there. I tried calling emergency, no one was on the line. No one. I called again and again, getting the same message. That could mean they're either too busying fixing this whole mess or they had abandoned us altogether. If the first idea is the case, great, but I have a feeling that it's not. So we have to do whatever it take to survive this, at least until it flies over."

Jason nodded.

"Leah? Did you say Leah was dragged from the car?"

Joe stopped in his track. "Yeah."

"But you told Gianna you saw her this morning."

He sighed. "I want to keep it from her."

"Why?"

"That guy I went to check on." He lifted his shirt, revealing the handgun strapped roughly to his belt. "It was no warning shot. He shot himself. He put this gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger."

"But... why?" asked Jason, it was too mature, too adult for him to handle, but he felt he needed to learn, to know everything.

"I don't know. Some people cannot handle it, I guess. I'm sure my wife can't, and I'm afraid when she knew, she'll take the easy way out." His voice was almost a whisper. ""God, I can't believe I'm telling you all this, you're just a boy."

"I'm okay, Joe." He lied. "The more I know the better, like you said, I might have to protect my sister later, so I guess I don't have a choice."

The man looked at him. Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out the handgun, holding it out to him.

It looked just like in the movies, black, small, and lethal. Jason felt himself trembling. He felt like he was looking at a snake that could strike at any moment. His eyes poured over the the muzzle, the barrel, the trigger, he didn't know if it was a gift or a curse.

"We have to do what it takes to survive, remember?" Joe said.

The boy reluctantly reached out and took the gun, it was heavier than he thought, he held it like his video game characters did, his index finger curled away from the trigger area.

Joe nodded and resumed their patrol.

They walked for several yards before his neighbor turned sharply and ran across the street, where a newly painted two story house stood, its yard nicely mowed, its porch decorated with webs of metallic wind bells.

Its beautiful arching window was broken

Jason looked at the building, sucked in a deep breath, trying to conjure all the courage from his body, and followed Joe across the street.


	5. Chapter 5

The broken window, agape like a mouth, leading to the darkness inside the house. Fragments of glass still stuck to the frame, glistened with caked blood, jutted outward threateningly. Whoever entered the house had cut himself up pretty badly.

Joe looked at the blood with calm suspicion. He craned his neck and looked inside. Jason was not as tall, so only the top of his head rose over the window stool, offering him no view. Joe came to the door, tried the lock as he did at the last house, and found it locked. He pressed himself against the wood and nudged it lightly, as if calculating his course. Then he backed up rushed against it, rattling the wood, sending a vibrato coursing through the foundation of the house.

The door did not give in. It was not as fragile as the door to Jason's room. The wooden threshold stood solid like a stone monument. The man tried again, as his shoulder collided with the surface of the door, his head snapped against the wood. He let out a quiet yelp and bent over, rubbing the side of his head. Jason wanted to laugh, but the humor was not of the magnitude to actually express it.

"We can go through the window." The boy offered.

"No, there's still blood on the glass. If we cut ourselves it's over."

Jason looked over at the next window, untouched, unbroken, its blinds drawn shut.

"How'd bout that one?" He said.

His neighbor looked at him and grinned. He went to the intact window and proceeded to strike it with the butt of his rifle. There was a _twang_ as the glass shattered inward. Knocking aside the loose jutting shards, Joe reached inside and tugged free the blind, shutter and all, and dropped it on the ground.

"Stay here." He said, then placed his hands on the window stool, lifted himself up onto it, ducking his head and landed on the other side. "I'll open the door."

Jason went to the massive front door as the lock turned with a _clack_. He let himself in. His neighbor looked down at him with fascination, not exactly at him but at his hand. He looked down and realized he had been holding the handgun, pointing it from the waist like an amateur. Joe looked at him and smiled.

They stood in the living room. A glass table sided by two sofas sat in front of them, a flat screen TV etched into the walls laid beyond. The walls around them were painted in merry green, Jason could imagine the owners, probably a young couple, newly married, still happy and optimistic about life, awaiting for the first child. Wherever they were, they didn't respond when Joe bashed down the door.

He had expected the house to be in disarray, but it was neat as if the intruder never went in. On the smooth laminated floor, scarlet dots of blood plopped, scattered sparsely, seeming to form a trail. They backed away from the blood, avoid risking exposure to the contaminant. The trail led past the L shaped wall separating the kitchen and the living room, curving right into a corridor.

Joe armed his rifle at the ready, Jason trailed behind him, trying his best to keep quiet, to appear invisible. His heart lurching in his chest, he felt his sweat oiling the grip of the handgun, and he began to doubt himself, doubting if he would have the guts to shoot anyone. But it was going to be okay, as long as he obediently stayed behind Joe, Joe was the hero, the ultimate survivor, the hunter, he was just an apprentice, tagging along to learn the trade.

Around the corner, there wasn't a corridor as they had expected, a thin, winding staircase lead to the second floor. This area was poorly lit. As the steps wound upward toward the higher floor, the shadows, even in the day, loomed treacherously.

Two drops of blood marked the first step of the staircase.

"Stay here." Joe said with a whisper, his finger pointing at Jason's feet. The boy nodded.

The steps groaned under the man's weight. Jason winced at his every move, all hope of stealth seemed thrown out the door. If an infected was in here, they would be heard already. He armed the gun to his face, standing like an action movie hero. Joe had half disappeared above the stairs, only his boots were seen as he slowly navigated his way. His footsteps faded.

Suddenly, Jason felt very alone.

It was so quiet that he could hear the tinnitus in his ears. He could hear Joe's booted feet trampling the carpet above him. Corners of the house was still engulfed in darkness. It was obvious the owners left at night, as the blinds were all shut, blocking all the light from the outside world. He was tempted to flip the light switch, but in doing so, he would be inviting the unpredictability, and it was not the crazies, but their erratic, unpredictable behavior was what scared him the most. He remembered the way the infected woman yesterday ramming through the windowpane, oblivious to any sense of civilized privacy, ignorant to the hazards of her surrounding as she ran toward and fought the bigger infected man, no fear, no self-preservation, just pure manic rage acting as a high octane fuel to drive her to kill, until she fell thirty feet head first from the second story and snapped her neck. His handgun suddenly feel inadequate. The dark recesses of the house stared at him like invisible predators, preying on his very soul.

He backed away from the stairs, toward the kitchen, where the L shaped wall painted the kitchen in incomplete blackness. In the cloak of shadow, he felt somehow safer.

He could no longer hear Joe's footsteps. He didn't know how big the second story was, there could be as much as four bedrooms up there, and the infected could be hiding in any of them. Joe said they did not like the sun, they were sensitive to it, and since they prowled the night, would they be sleeping in the day? It felt like a cat and mouse game, and the winner would be the one with the element of surprise, and at that, both Joe and the infected were on equal ground.

In the back of his mind, apart from the ringing tinnitus, he heard a muffled stirring.

It sounded as if someone was thrashing on the bed. The sound came suddenly and went on in irregular interval. Jason imagined someone, hopefully the owner, having a bad dream and lashing out in his bed sheet. But things were unpredictable.

He raised the handgun with both hands, aiming at the source of the sound. It came from his floor. The thrashing continued, and Jason thought he could hear growling amidst the mysterious sound. He stood still, listening, the weapon grew heavy in his small hands. His heart was beating louder than ever, the tension was almost palpable. He prayed to see Joe's boots descending the winding stairs, to his rescue.

"Joe." He whispered. His voice dissolved in the quiet air. It was no use, Joe would never hear him. He considered running, bolting out of the house, but he wouldn't get far, he saw first hand how fast the infected were. And beside, his companion was still in the house, likely unaware of another presence.

It wasn't really sure it was an infected. Okay, there was blood at the windows, but it could mean anything, maybe an actual burglar cut himself trying to break in the house. He had to make sure. If he tried going up the stairs to find Joe, the steps would creak, alerting his position. He quietly slipped out of his shoes, tiptoeing across the smooth, laminated tiling, toward the staircase.

He went past the stairs, entering an actual corridor. The corridor ended ahead of him, where an opened door was on his right, a closed one faced him at the deadend. He approached it with shaky fleetness. The door on the right was an entrance into the narrow laundry room, a dryer was stacked on top of a windowed washing machine. Another door lined at the end of the laundry room, probably leading to the side garage.

Frantic thrashing pierced the air. It came from the room ahead. Ignoring the empty laundry room, he tiptoed toward the room ahead. The door wasn't closed, but slightly opened, forming a small slit big enough to look through. Jason lowered his weapon and narrowed his eyes into the slit.

He saw a king size bed in the middle of the room, directly above the headrest, a large double window hung, its shutter cutting the outside light into a horizontal vent, projecting these bright parallel slits into the room. In the bed, bloody and sick, was a man. His clothes, which might have consisted of plaid business dress shirt and khaki pants, were horribly shredded and browned in dried blood. He laid on the bed, arms outstretched, staining the bedsheet with that burgundy hue of death, his chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. A terrible stench, a smell of rot and strong metal, reached Jason's nose, he tried fighting off the need to heave.

The infected's hand rose and jabbed at the air, then fell back to his side. The other arm rose and swung, hard enough to move his torso, then fell again. He was making that thrashing sound as his limbs fell back into the bed. Jason began to retreat, slower than ever before. The infected was hibernating, but it wasn't a guarantee that he wouldn't attack him upon hearing the slightest sound.

He moved past the laundry room and toward the stairs. A hand grabbed his shoulder, another closed around his mouth.

"Sssshhhhh..." Joe whispered, letting go of his hands. He looked down at him, then at the door near the laundry room.

"He's in there." Jason mumbled the words.

"Fuck."

He began to retreat again, almost out of the corridor, toward the stairs, but Joe held in him in place. Before he could look up and question the older man, the stairs creaked behind him.

Another infected.


End file.
